The woodpile is stacked in the garage near the closest window to the house. It rises to the middle of the window, held at a safe distance from the panes of glass by a piece of plywood spanning the width of the window frame and rising to the top of the pile. The space between the window and the plywood is no more than three inches.
A sparrow trapped in the garage seeing the window as a way out of the structure flew into the glass and fell into the gap between the wood and the window. It tried over and over to crest the log pile but the limited space kept it from flying. It must have been an epic struggle in the fast beating heart of the creature; slapping its wings against glass and wood, leaping in vain to conquer the height of its trap, the bird would rest on the window sill looking out at the fading daylight before it would try again to escape.
The window frame was painted shut with a succession of paint layers. Using a bar intended for chopping thick ice as a lever to raise the window I pried at the unlikely trap. One side of the sash budged, breaking the layers of paint locking it shut and a gap opened but it was still too narrow for the bird's escape. I chopped at the remaining paint holding the window closed. The bird, exhausted but undeterred from its struggle, continued its vain efforts.
Prying the sash again the window opened suddenly creating a passage of nearly two inches. I pushed my hand into the gap and captured the bird's legs between my fingers, pulling the animal toward the outside. The sparrow slipped through the crack more easily than I expected calmly allowing me to convey it into the remaining light of day. I lifted my hand from the sill and the little bird, aware of its freedom, pressed its wings against the air and flew into the twilight towards the safety of the woods.
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